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There was a stubborn set to her jaw, and it was clear she concealed something. His mind raced through the possibilities. He had not noticed Haversham’s presence and doubted the man was the sort of fellow Marguerite would invite to her château. Alastair considered her set of friends, but as much as they liked to flirt with danger, they were too naïve. Who else among Millie’s acquaintances could possibly…
No. It could not be. Yet who else would know of Château Follet?
He pressed his lips together. “Katherine.”
Millie’s face fell.
“Did you think me so dull-witted that I would not guess? Where is she?” he asked.
“She left to stay with a friend and will return on the morrow.”
He suppressed an oath. Setting aside his disbelief that his aunt would do such a thing as introduce Millie to the Château Debauchery, he fixed his mind to how he was going to take Millie away. He had not come by carriage but by horseback. He would have to borrow Marguerite’s carriage. He silently cursed. He had been looking forward to his stay at the château for some time, and instead of spending his nights with the beautiful redhead who had caught his interest, he would be chaperoning his gravy-adorned cousin away.
“We start the festivities after dinner. How naughty of you two to depart the dinner table—and without a by-your-leave.”
They both turned to see Marguerite at the threshold. Looking radiant in a gown that appeared to cling to her slim frame, she sauntered toward them.
Millie flushed and lowered her eyes. “Forgive the impoliteness, Madame Follet.”
“Marguerite, I have need of your carriage,” he said.
The hostess raised her perfectly arched brows. “My carriage? You are not leaving?”
“I fear we must.”
“’We?’”
“Miss Abbott and I. Tonight.”
Millie looked up. “I made no mention of leaving.”
He turned to her. “You are certainly not staying.”
“Lady Katherine expects to fetch me from here tomorrow.”
“I will sort the matter out with my aunt when I see her.”
He still could not believe what Katherine had done. What was she thinking?
“Mon dieu,” Marguerite exclaimed. “I do not understand. Why must anyone leave? You are both of you but arrived.”
He spoke before Millie could respond. “This is no place for a respectable young woman—your pardon, Marguerite—and one who is betrothed!”
Marguerite looked at Millie, whose countenance crumbled. “It is true,” she admitted. “I own it is most unseemly—”
“La, my dear! Betrothed, married, or widowed, it matters not,” Marguerite said cheerfully. She turned back to him. “I am surprised you, of all people, care.”
“Miss Abbott is my cousin!” he replied.
“Ah, now I understand. You do not wish a scandal in the d’Aubigne family.”
“She is not a d’Aubigne, and I don’t bl—care much about scandals.”
Millie interjected, “Especially as you have committed more than your fair share of them.”
He looked sharply to her before returning to Marguerite. “She will ruin herself if she stays here. No dowry in the world could save her then. Even that Haversham will not have her, I vow.”
“And I should not despair at such an outcome,” Millie murmured.
